I groan under my breath at the shouting outside my office. I had only one order for my receptionist: to keep quiet. She couldn't even handle that. I had enough noise inside my head, I didn't need more outside to distract me.

More shouts exploded from the other side of the door, deep and high pitched voices joining in on the mix.

What the fuck was going on?

Before I could even stand up from my chair, storm out there and fire everyone that's making a single noise, my office door bursts open, a certain blonde slamming the door shut behind her, breathing heavily.

My fingers clench around my pen tightly.

What the fuck is she doing here?

"Alex! Oaklee is in the hospital."

My eyes snap up to hers, fear installing in every nerve and every cell wakes up with alarm.

No. I remind myself. You don't care about her. She lied. She lied about everything. You don't care.

I swallow the words that want to be said, I ignore the clench in my heart and I force my feet to the ground. Do not move. Do not think. Do not feel. Do not care. She's nothing.

Instead I say, "oh." I stay seated. I turn my focus back to my work. I do not care.

"What are you doing? Get up!" She yells in frustration. Her small hands wrap around my forearm and tug.

Snatching my arm from her grasp, I glare at her. "Do. Not. Touch. Me." I emphasise every word, gritting my teeth murderously. "I'm not coming. I don't care about her. Leave."

Her taken back form is silent for a minute but I'm already looking back at my papers by the time she comes round again, ignoring the knife wounds to my heart with every word I just said. They were all lies.

"What happened? What the fuck did you do?"

I chuckle humourlessly, the sound foreign to my mouth. "Me? No it was all Oaklee."

"What happened?" Her voice was softer now, full with confusion.

I laugh bitterly. "I saw her dad. That's what happened."

"You saw her dad?!" Her gasp echoes through the room. "But... why would that make you hate her?"

"Why would-" I pause, staring at her in disbelief. "Are you insane? I know everything."

"Then why are you so angry?"

Scoffing, I clench my fists below my desk. "Because I know everything and she kept it from me. She disgusts me."

"You prick!" I look up startled. Her face is red with fury and her firsts are clenched at her sides. "Why the fuck should you be angry? She's the one that got abused for eleven years!"

"She got abused-" I stop once I realise what she just said, glancing up at her as shock and confusion inhabits my body. "What did you just say?"

Abused? For eleven years?

No that's not what happened. She knew her dad was driving that car. She knew he killed my mum. She knew it and she hid it. That's what happened.

She chuckles harshly, the noise sending ice through my veins from the coldness of it. "What? I thought you knew everything. She got abused for eleven years by her so called dad."

"No." I shake my head, begging it wasn't true. "Her dad drove in to my mums car and killed her. Oaklee knew and kept it from me. I saw her dad stumble out of the car. She knew."

Morgan took a step back, her eyebrows raised. "How the fuck would Oaklee know that? She wasn't in the car. Her mum, however, was in the car and died. Her father was drunk, driving and he crashed in to another car. She didn't know it was yours."

"But..." I stumble over my words, my head spinning and I'm glad I didn't stand up when Morgan came in. I would have been on the floor by now if I did. "She didn't-?"

"After her mum died, her alcoholic dad turned in to an alcoholic and abusive dad. For eleven years she was with him, being physically and emotionally abused until she left at eighteen." She stated harshly, her words drilling in to me.

My heart was being stabbed, repeatedly, the pain taking over my whole body. I couldn't breathe. This must have been how Oaklee felt all the time. The whole room was spinning, off its axis, disoriented. What was happening?

This couldn't be happening!

"Why do you think she is the way she is? Why do you think she's so innocent and childlike? Why do you think she likes being alone and stays away from people? Why do you think she has a better relationship with her dog than she does with anyone else? Why do you think she only sees me once a month? Why do you think she's got anxiety?" She shouted, throwing her arms in the air. "She's damaged. She's broken. She has trust issues. She never got to experience her whole childhood and she definitely did not experience her teenage years. She was forced to work with people for years, to be able to survive in that shitty little house because her dad forced her to because he wouldn't get off his lazy fucking ass and do his job as a father! She had save up in secret and move out of that horrid and traumatising place that she used to call home. She trusted you, a man, the same gender as the person that hurt her physically and emotionally for years. Do you know how hard that was for her?"

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I said all that stuff to Oaklee and I couldn't have been further away from the truth. I assumed the worst. I never thought or questioned why she had anxiety or a halo of innocence surrounded her. I never thought about it. I was so stupid and naive, so self-absorbed. And now Oaklee is the hospital and I- Oh my god. My Oaklee is in the hosp-

"Wait...." She continued, ignoring my hyperventilating. "You saw her dad. You met her dad and you assumed the worst, that Oaklee knew your mum died by the hands of her dad." Her moved from the ground to my face, a look of horror on her face. "What did you say to her?" I swallowed harshly, shaking my head. "What did you say?"

It would have been better if she yelled, if she spit the words at me like I was the most disgusting human on this planet, because I was, I was scum, but instead she said it in a small voice; she was deadly calm and it was frightening.

I swallowed again, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I said-"

She wouldn't even let me finish. "You called her a bitch, didn't you? A whore. A slut. You called her dumb. You told her you hated her." With every insult I flinched and she had her answer. "She had the worst panic attack in years because you repeated the exact same words her father said to her for eleven years."

No no no no. No. Please no. I'm not like him. No. I can't be like him.

"Is she okay?" I didn't even recognise my own voice. It was fearful, weak, heartbreaking. "Can I see her? I need to see her. To apologise"

"She doesn't remember you."

There it was. All the stab wounds before were minor, they were like paper cuts compared to this one. The knife went through, all the way, poking out the other end. The pain was excruciating, I wanted to die. Nothing could end this pain.

"She had a panic attack and she hit her head. She's lost her memory from the last year or so." Her voice was so quiet, so full of sadness but I could hear the smugness in it. She was happy this happened to her, because it meant she forgot everything I said to her. It meant she forgot me.

"She doesn't remember me?" No. Please don't let it be true. No. No.

"Nope." She grinned, the maliciousness in her eyes made me flinch. "Isn't it great?"

I ignored her words and stood up on my shaky legs. I had to lean against my desk to steady myself, my knees were shaking and my head was spinning like I had been on a merry go round that was spinning at 100mph.

I gathered as much oxygen as I could and made my legs walk, to the door, to the lift, to the hospital, to Oaklee's room number. I ignored Morgan shouting at me all the way, I ignored the looks of my employees and random strangers on the streets looking at me like I was a mental patient. I just needed Oaklee.

"Oaklee!" I burst through the door of her hospital room, stopping short when her innocent eyes met mine.

Her head was bandaged but she was smiling, a blue lolly in her hand.

I thought it wasn't true, maybe Morgan was lying to get back at me and I would come in here and Oaklee would cry, she would shout at me but this was worse. She didn't look at me with anger or hatred, or even love like she used to. It was just confusion and politeness. I thought the pain in my office was bad but no, I keep getting corrected. This pain... now this was pain worse than dying. I was drowning but there was no water to suffocate me with, to fill my lungs while I spasmed in to darkness.

It was just me, standing in the room full of air and looking at the love of my life who didn't even see me as me.

She doesn't recognise me.

The truth struck me in the face like a train, crushing me underneath it, underneath all the debris and I found it hard to breathe. I nearly crumbled to my knees but I couldn't, not in front of her.

"Hello." She smiled warmly. She looked around me, her eyes lighting up when she saw Morgan. "Are you Morgans boyfriend? She never mentioned you."

Morgan gagged from behind me and moved forward, sitting beside her on the bed. I wish that was me. I wish she remembered me and not Morgan. I wish I was sat beside her, holding her hand. But then, if I was- if she did remember me- would she want me beside her? Or would she kick me out?

Even if she did kick me out and shout at me and forbid me from seeing her again, it would be better than this, right? Surely it would be better than this.

"No. This is Alexander King." Morgan said quietly and I thanked her internally for hiding the disgust and hatred well. Oaklee didn't deserve to see the hatred Morgan and I held for myself.

I'm not Alexander to Oaklee. My name is Alex. Why did she call me Alexander?

Oaklee's beautiful brown eyes light up with recognition and she looks back up at me. Please remember me. Please remember me. "Oh! You're the man Morgan told me about. You're my boyfriend."

"He's your ex boyfriend." Morgan replied before I could even get a word in. Another knife settled in my heart. "You guys broke up. Sorry I didn't mention that before."

Her brown eyes stare at my curiously, her head doing that cute little tilt when she's confused. "Oh... why did we break up?"

I open my mouth but Morgan beats me to it again, shrugging nonchalantly. "He was an asshole."

Oaklee gasps, staring at Morgan wide eyed. "Morgan! He's right there." She whispered loudly.

At least that didn't change. She never was good at whispering. I nearly smiled at the thought.

"Can I talk to you alone?" I ask desperately, my gaze shifting to Morgan.

"No yo-"

"Yes." Oaklee smiled, nudging Morgan out the way.

Morgan grumbled but left without another word, but not without glaring at me and elbowing me in the stomach as she left.

I rubbed my ribs with a grimace, I deserved it, and grabbed a chair from the other side of the room, sitting beside her bed. I had to stop myself from grabbing her petite hands in mine.

I stuck them underneath my thighs, sitting on them so I wasn't tempted.

"What's up?" She stared at me with the same look as when we first met and I hated it. I needed that look she gave me before the accident and our argument. The look of pure adoration and love, the look of want and need. The look that was only for me. I was the only person who she could stare at with that look. I was the only person. I need to be the only person.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tapping my foot against the ground in an out of beat rhythm to calm my nerves. "Before the accident... I said stuff to you. Horrible stuff, I was so angry and I blamed you. I'm so sorry Oaklee. I know you don't remember but I am so sorry and I love you so much."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." She laughs lightly, shrugging it off.

"It caused you to have a panic attack which made you hit your head and lose your memory. It was all my fault. You being here." I gesture to the hospital room. "Is all my fault."

She's quiet for a minute, picking at the blanket that's bunched around her waist. "Did I love you?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes."

"Did you love me?"

"Yes." I say instantly, nodding furiously. "So so much. I still do. With all my heart."

"Then why wouldn't I forgive you?"

Oaklee, ladies and gentlemen, is the most beautiful woman on this planet. Her heart is so pure, so kind and so caring that an old grouch like myself couldn't possibly own it. But I do. Her heart is mine, just like my heart is hers. She doesn't even remember me but she's still trying to comfort me.

"I said terrible, unforgivable words." I look down, ashamed.

"If I loved you then I'm sure I would forgive you, no matter how much wrong you've done." Her hand touches my arm and I flinch. She starts to remove it but I snatch it back, ripping my hands from underneath my thighs and grab her tiny one between my large giant ones, enclosing it tightly.

"Can I stay? You can get to know me again." I say hopefully, begging her to let me make it up to her in some way. I can't live without her, I need her. "We'll get to know each other again."

She nods, making me sigh in relief. "I'd like that."

I gently wrap my fingers around her fragile and twig like wrist, cupping my cheek with it and nuzzling in to the palm of her hand, closing my eyes and relishing in the warmth and comfort it brings me.

I don't care how long it takes, I will make her fall in love with me again. I will be by her side, apologising for something she doesn't remember until she finally does, and then she can decide whether she wants to stay with me or not.

I will do everything to get her back, as mine.